


Human Shaped Versus Human

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Belting, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Eldritch Abominations, Facial, M/M, No Lube, POV Multiple, Polyamory, Rimming, Voyeurism, blowjob, culture clash, double blowjob, feelings talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 19:03:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14940062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Jack, Anti, And Wilford all live together. Things go... interesting places.





	Human Shaped Versus Human

Jack woke up being cuddled by Wilford.

This wasn't an unusual turn of events - Wilford technically had his own room, but he was always sleeping in someone's room.

And Wilford clung like an octopus.

He was, technically, some kind of... something or other from beyond the stars who was just taking a convenient human shape, as far as Jack could tell.

Wilford didn't talk about it much, but he could do interesting things that made Jack's head hurt if he thought about them too hard.

Then again, he also had Anti in the other room, and if anyone was going to give him headaches, it was Anti.

At least Wilford didn't kill people anymore.

Neither did Anti.

It was one of the rules of the house - no homicide, manslaughter, or murder.

But... urrgh, Wilford was just cuddling up closer, and he was cooler than a human being, but still warm, and Jack was just... kicking the covers off, because it was just too warm. 

Wilford's mustache was ticklish against the back of Jack's neck, and Wilford's hands were now pressed up against Jack's belly, and Wilford was rubbing it, and Wilford was... grinding his hips forward.

Jack sighed, and he ground back, panting.

Wilford's cock was hard, and it had slipped out of his panties - he'd slept in nothing but panties last night, and now he was... he was pressing his cock between the cheeks of Jack's ass.

"You didn't know if I was awake," Jack scolded, but his tone was teasing.

"Yes I did," said Wilford, and he was kissing along the back of Jack's neck, wet, smacking kisses, and then he was... oh fuck, he was biting Jack's shoulder, sinking his teeth in, and Jack was arching against it, shuddering, his eyes squeezing shut, his hips jerking back against Wilford, his mouth falling open.

Wilford had jaws like a hyena. 

He had jaws like a hyena, and he just... clamped down on Jack's shoulder, and then he was reaching into Jack's pajama pants, to palm Jack's cock.

Jack groaned, and he arched back against Wilford, grinding back. 

"How could you know?"

"Your heartbeat sped up," said Wilford, as if that was just a thing that people were able to hear.

Jack flushed, and then he whined, as Wilford's fingers worked his shaft, slowly, carefully.

"Fuck, that feels good," said Jack, and okay, that was a dumb thing to say, but... fuck it. 

What else was he going to say?

"Good boy," said Wilford, and then he was climbing on top of Jack, and he was... oh god, he was just... manhandling Jack, rolling Jack onto his belly, and he was shoving Jack's pajama pants down.

Jack could never get enough of that - of the rough body play, of being tossed around like a rag doll.

He let Wilford do it, because... well, how often could a grown ass man like Jack be tossed around like this?

He moaned and he squirmed, as Wilford shoved down the back of his pajama pants, and then the head of Wilford's cock was pressing between the cheeks of his ass, and... oh... fuck....

"Lube," said Wilford. "I forgot the lube."

"Right," Jack said. 

And then Wilford was... off of the bed, grabbing lube, and then his hand was around Jack's ankle, pulling Jack over to the end of the bed, and Jack was dangling, as his pajama pants were unceremoniously yanked off of him, and he was flat on his back, his ankles resting on Wilford's shoulders, and Wilford's fingers were... oh, Wilford's fingers were doing some truly wonderful things.

Jack was being fucked open, and that was... oh, fuck, that was wonderful, that was the kind of deep, rough fingering that Jack could never get enough of.

He humped back into the fingers that were fucking him open, his heels digging into Wilford's back, and Wilford looked down at him, his expression affectionate.

This... wasn't always the most sanitary thing to do, at this time of day, but Wilford didn't care, and if Wilford didn't care, Jack didn't care.

Especially when his own cock was pointing up at his chin, bouncing with each thrust of Wilford's fingers.

"Good boy," said Wilford, and he was pushing his panties down, baring his whole cock. "God, look at you... a delectable treat, just for me."

Jack opened his legs wider, inasmuch as he could from this position, and he moaned like he was being paid for it. 

"Isn't that good? Yes, it is, isn't it? Moan for me. Moan for me like the fucking slut you are," Wilford crooned.

Jack gasped, and he sobbed, humping into it, his hips still working.

"Good boy," Wilford said, and he added another finger, still thrusting with it, gently, then not so gently, hard enough that Jack was clutching at the bed, to keep from being pushed along the bed. 

"Please, I'm ready, put it in me, please... please!"

"Well," said Wilford, and he chuckled, that deep, almost sinister sound that always made Jack's toes curl, "well, I can't really argue with "please," now can I?"

And then he just... pushed in.

He pushed in, one long, smooth stroke, and it was enough to make Jack cry out.

... Anti could probably hear them. 

Oh well.

Jack wailed, as Wilford began to thrust, with long, deep strokes.

"God, you're so tight still, Jack. I was fucking you like a demon last night, and yet here you are, gripping my cock like you never want to let it go...."

Jack's own cock was between them, and it bounced with each thrust. 

"You just like taking my cock, however I'm giving it to you," Wilford continued, and his hips were still rolling. "You just want me to stuff you full of it, morning, noon, night, whenever... fuck, Jack, be a good little pillow princess and stay put...."

Jack froze, and his ass clenched around Wilford's convulsively. 

His dick twitched, too.

Wilford grinned wolfishly.

"Oh, I see. You like being my little pillow princess? You like me taking care of your every need?" 

"I can take care of myself," Jack murmured, but now Wilford was leaning forward, and Jack's cock was squashed between the two of them, and Jack was just... lying there, taking it. 

He didn't like doing it, exactly, but there was... there was something about it. 

There was something about being used like this.

He just… ground against it, he took it, he… rode it, and then he was about to cum, he was so close, he was… he was… oh fuck….

And then Wilford was squeezing the head of his cock, tightly enough that it was almost painful.

But it kept Jack from cumming.

“There’s my little princes,” cooed Wilford, and he was… he was grabbing Jack by the hips, and they were… they were rolling over, and Jack was on top now, and somehow, Wilford’s cock was still inside of him.

“I can’t exactly be a pillow princess if you want me to ride you,” said Jack, his tone sassy in spite of himself, because how could he not?

And now he was being… lifted and dropped, being used like a fleshlight.

Wilford was fucking into him, and it was amazing.

Oh god.

“Just let me keep fucking this tight ass… fuc, you’re good… oh, fuck, yes, keep gripping me, just like that….”

And then he was pulling on Jack’s hips, still fucking into him, and WIlford was just… mumbling.

Of course he was.

That was a thing that Wilford did - he talked to himself, he caught a phrase and he just kept… talking. 

That was a thing about Wilford. 

He didn’t work like people. 

Jack was still getting used to it. 

“Please,” said Jack. “Please, I want to cum. I want to cum, please… I want to cum so badly, please make me cum, please, I need it, I need you to let me cum, please….”

“A good pillow princess doesn’t beg,” Wilford scolded.

“A thousand pardons,” Jack said. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for pillow princess-ing.”

“We’ll have to practice another time,” Wilford agreed, and then he was… rolling over again, only this time they were on their sides, and Jack’s leg was being held up, as Wilford fucked into him, and oh, this was… this was indulgent.

It was almost like being in a porno, with Wilford panting into his neck, kissing and occasionally biting.

Jack was going to have to wear some proper shirts for a while.

Oh well.

“C’mon, baby, cum for me. Do it. Cum for me, cum in my hand, cum around my cock,” Wilford was crooning, and Jack wanted to roll his eyes a bit, because… well, speaking of porno.

That was, quite possibly, the most porn-tastic dialogue that Jack had ever heard. 

And Wilford was stroking him so well, and he was shaking, he was… god, he was just cumming.

He was cumming, all over the bed, all over Wilford’s hand, and his hips were hitching up forward, and his mouth was wide open as he gasped and sobbed, cumming like a goddamn fountain.

And then… Wilford was rolling them over again, and Jack was belly down in his own cum, and Wilford was hammering into him, fucking him with sharp thrusts, and then Wilford was cumming inside of Jack, and it was… oh god, that was… that was hot, it was gooey, it was… more than a little gross, but fuck….

Wilford pulled out - slowly, carefully - and pressed little kisses to the back of Jack’s neck.

Jack sighed, and he flopped back.

They were going to have to change the sheets.

Oh well.

He’d deal with that in a bit.

Wilford was just… getting up, not even bothering to put any pants on, just making his way towards the bathroom.

He came back with a warm washcloth, and he wiped Jack down - including around Jack’s hole, which was an… odd sensation to be sure, though not unwelcome.

Wilford was a cuddler.

Who would have thought, right?

Jack rested his head on Wilford’s shoulder, his eyes half closed, as Wilford petted his hair.

“You did a good job,” said Wilford.

“I’m a horrible pillow princess,” Jack murmured, letting his eyes flutter closed.

“Well, yes,” said Wilford. “We’ll have to work on that.”

“Wouldn’t that also involve you not actually getting off either?”

“Maybe I’m not the best pillow… knight,” said Wilford, his tone prim.

Jack burst out laughing.

“I mean,” he said, “considering the community that we’re taking this from in the first place….”

Wilford shrugged, and kissed Jack on the shoulder, right where the bite was.

That seemed to be the end of that conversation.

* * * 

Jack went down to breakfast a few hours later - it was a Sunday, so why not be lazy? - to find Anti, pouting at the table.

“You slept in,” Anti said, his tone accusatory.

“That I did,” Jack agreed.

He was a little worried he was walking differently - Wilford had done a bit of a number on him. 

But… it was worth it.

“I could hear you guys fucking,” Anti added.

“So put your music up louder,” said Jack.

It was an old argument.

It was barely an argument anymore - practically just a conversation.

“I don’t know why he stays with you,” Anti grumbled. “As boring as you are.”

“Maybe some people _like_ boring,” said Jack, and he poured himself a bowl of cereal. 

“But why like boring? Boring is… boring.”

“There’s an ancient proverb,” said Jack, as he took a bite of his cereal. “May you live in interesting times.”

“I’d wanna live in interesting times,” said Anti. “It’d be better than being stuck with you.”

“You can leave anytime you want to,” said Jack. 

_I really wish you’d leave,_ was the undercurrent of it, although Anti was usually a bit too thick to actually pick up on that kind of thing. 

Anti just shrugged, then reached for Jack’s cereal.

Jack slapped his hand away. 

“Get your own,” he told Anti.

“But I don’t want my own. I want _yours_.”

“Yes, but if I give you mine and then get myself another one, you’ll want the one I’ve got,” said Jack.

They’d done this dance a few times.

“Well, yeah,” said Anti, as if that made perfect sense.

Maybe it made sense, in Anti logic.

Jack had long given up on figuring out how Anti’s head worked. 

If he wanted a headache, he could just go bang his forehead into the nearest wall.

He’d make about the same amount of progress.

* * *

Anti frowned after Jack, as the shouty little tit made his way upstairs, towards the recording studio.

Jack was just so damn _boring_ , and being around Jack made Wilford boring.

It wasn't even the "no killing anyone under any circumstances" rules that Jack had set down, because Anti could live witht hat.

But Jack never wanted to do anything fun, which left Anti somewhat hamstrung, since there was only so much he could do on his own.

And now Jack was recording, which meant that Anti had to "stay out of trouble," whatever that meant.

Wilford came into the kitchen, looking downright... cheerful, which was obnoxious, but then again, did Wilford do anything that wasn't obnoxious?

"Well, hello there," said Wilford, and he smiled at Anti.

Wilford's smiles always reminded Anti of something that lived on the edges of things, with too many teeth and gleaming, unsettling eyes. 

Anti refused to be unsettled.

Especially by something wearing _Mark's_ shape. 

"What's got you in such a good mood?"

"Oh, this and that," said Wilford, his tone arch.

He winked at Anti, and it was a real juicy wink, like something out of a cartoon.

It made Anti sick to his stomach. 

"I hate all of you so much," said Anti, and he was aware that he sounded like a toddler who was throwing a temper tantrum, but he didn't particularly care.

Who was going to notice, anyway?

"Why do you hate us, ol' chum?"

"I'm not your chum, old or otherwise," said Anti, and he glitched, so that he was sitting on the table. 

Wilford raised an eyebrow.

"You know that Jack doesn't like that sort of thing in the house," he reminded Anti.

"Why do you care so much about what Jack wants or doesn't want?"

"Because I like being around Jack," said Wilford, "and he lets me stay around him when I don't deliberately antagonize him."

Anti shrugged.

He was kind of stuck with Jack, regardless of what he did.

"I don't see what's gotten you into such a snit, anyway," said Wilford. "What would it take to get you out of it?"

"Blow me," said Anti, and he hoped that his mismatched eyes were sparkling with malice when he said that.

"Well," said Wilford, in that same cheerful tone of voice, "if you insist!"

And he just... dropped to his knees, right there in the kitchen.

"Are you seriously... oh," mumbled Anti, because... oh wow, yes, that was... that was Wilford's mouth, and it was hot and wet, even through the denim of Anti's jeans.

Anti moaned, and he held on to Wilford's hair, tangling his fingers through it.

Wilford looked up at him, all big brown eyes and pink mustache, and he smiled.

It was still a toothy, predatory grin - Wilford didn't seem to have any other kind, when it came down to it - but there was something else there as well. 

"Do you want me to be your good boy?"

His voice was practically a simper.

Oh.

Wow.

So maybe Wilford was just... wanting for someone to take charge in his life.

That might be why he was stepping out on Jack - he obviously needed someone to take control. 

And here was Anti, up to the task.

"What if I told you to lick my arse instead?"

"I'd have to change my position a bit," said Wilford, and then he was... he was grabbing Anti by the ankles, pulling Anti closer to the end of the table.

Anti's ass was more or less hanging off the edge of the table, his legs on Wilford's shoulders. 

And then Wilford was kissing along the inside of Anti's thigh, and he was... taking out a knife.

Anti recognized the familiar sound of the switchblade being flicked open, and then there was coldness going along Anti's leg, and Wilford was just... cutting open Anti's pants.

He was running the blade of the knife along the inside of Anti's thigh, cutting away Anti's jeans - the denim was pretty old and worn out, come to think of it - and then Wilford was sliding the edge of the knife into the seam of the jeans, and then just... pulling on it.

The edge of the knife brushed against Anti's balls, and Anti froze.

Um.

Anti still had his hands on Wilford's head, in his hair.

"You're a fan of going commando, I see," said Wilford, and he grinned up at Anti with an expression that could be best read as _lewd_ , which made Anti almost blush.

If he were Jack, he might have blushed.

But here was Wilford, grabbing Anti by the hips, and then getting Anti's hips tilted forward, so that Anti's asshole was available for Wilford to lick.

"You're really gonna lick my arse?"

"You did ask," Wilford said, and he had put the knife away, holding Anti's ass open with both hands, his thumbs right by Anti's hole. "It's not that different from Jack's now, is it?"

"How can you tell? Did you memorize what Jack's looks like?"

Wilford shrugged, nearly unsettling Anti's legs, and Anti rolled his eyes.

And then they rolled back into his head, because Wilford was licking him.

It wasn't just... well, lackadaisical licking, either - there was enthusiasm behind it.

Wilford was doing... things with his tongue, things Anti didn't entirely understand, except that they felt a lot better than they had a right to.

Wilford was sliding his tongue inside of Anti's ass, and he was sucking awkwardly, as his hands held on to Anti's thighs.

And then Wilford was pulling back, staring up at Anti with an expression that could best be described as "feverish." 

"Tell me I'm a good boy," said Wilford, his voice rough. "Tell me that I'm a good little slut."

"You're the best little slut," said Anti, and his voice cracked in a way that would have embarrassed him, if he wasn't so into this. "You're... you're my good little slut, you're doing such a good job, oh, fuck, yes, put your tongue deeper, yes, yes, _yes_ , please, fuck, yes please, yes... fuck!"

Anti's cock was twitching against his belly, and his heels were digging into Wilford's back. 

Wilford seemed to relish the pain, - he moaned around Anti’s hole, and then he was letting go of Anti’s ass, to suck on Anti’s balls, and then… oh god, he was going higher, along Anti’s shaft, full on sucking Anti’s shaft, slurping it, and going… higher.

Wilford wrapped his lips around Anti’s cock, and his fingers probed at Anti’s hole, gentle as anything.

Wilford was moaning like he was being paid for it, and he just… deepthroated Anti, too it as deep as it could, and Anti was clinging to Wilford’s hair, babbling praise and nonsense.

No wonder Jack followed Wilford around with that hopeful look on his face. 

How could he not?

And then Wilford was curling his fingers, and he was pressing it… right up against Anti’s prostate, and Anti was practically _howling_.

“Please, fuck, please… please, please, go deeper, do it, please?”

“Hmmm?” 

“Your… your fingers. Please, go deeper.”

Wilford pulled off of Anti’s cock… and then he pressed a little kiss to the very tip of it, which was enough to make Anti’s hips buck forward again.

Oh, _fuck_.

There was something almost… perverse about it, something that left his toes curling, and he leaned back into the table, his shoulder blades digging into the wood - or at least, trying to.

But he was fucking Wilford’s mouth, and he was being fingered by Wilford as well, and Wilford was… he was strong, and he was… he was good at it, and he was trying not to devolve into general gibbering - sometimes, he ended up gibbering in a language of things beyond the stars, and then he was full on… being fucked, and he was going limp, because he was cumming, right across Wilford’s face.

And Wilford’s face had cum on it.

There was cum dripping down the pink mustache.

Wow.

That was… both ridiculous, and disgustingly sexy.

“Wow,” said Wilford. “You taste just like Jack.”

“That’s weird,” said Anti, wrinkling his nose.

“I _have_ been curious,” said Wilford, and he grinned again, a bit too wide.

“You’re… weird,” said Anti, in a disapproving tone of voice.

“You’re one to talk,” said Wilford, and he stood up, arching his back and stretching.

And then he was… getting a kitchen towel, and using it to wiped off Anti’s stomach, which was nice.

And he was washing his own mouth, and then he was… reaching out for Anti and he was lifting Anti off of the table.

“That must have been hard on your back,” Wilford said, and his tone was sympathetic.

“I mean,” said Anti, “it wasn’t comfortable.”

Wilford was being… cuddly.

That was weirdly uncomfortable.

He squirmed, but Wilford readjusted, to make it more comfortable. 

Which was still uncomfortable.

Being comfortable like this was too damn… something, and it was too warm, and Anti was just… he needed to not be touching anyone. 

He glitched out of Wilford’s arms, up and onto the roof, because fuck that cuddly noise, and then he tilted his head back, and let the dimness of the clouds wash over him, as he cleared his head.

Then he grinned.

There would be some trouble in paradise, once the three of them were in the same place.

This was going to be _excellent_.

* * *

Jack came down to dinner, his head still throbbing with all the shouting he’d done, to find shepherd’s pie, courtesy of Wilford. 

Anti was there, courtesy of nobody, because… well, Anti.

And Anti was grinning.

Of course he was.

“Well,” said Anti, “isn’t this the happy little scene?”

“You’ve been here longer than I have,” said Jack.

“Which here are we talking about? The universe? This house? This particular room? This table?”

“We were on the table earlier,” said Anti, his expression sly, as Wilford put the plate in front of Jack.

“Hm?”

Jack was too tired to entirely understand what Anti meant.

“Wilford gave me some truly _amazing_ head,” said Anti, and he was smirking.

“What, on the table?”

“Yep,” said Anti, and he was smirking.

“...ew,” said Jack, and he wasn’t sure if he was saying “ew” to the idea of the two of them having sex, to the idea of them having sex on the kitchen table… urgh.

“Something wrong?”

Wilford shot Jack a concerned look.

“Everything is fine,” Jack said, and his voice was flat. “I’ll be eating in my studio.”

Wilford’s face fell, and that hurt, but Jack… needed some space.

Anti was smirking.

Of course he was.

Jack kind of wanted to punch Anti, but… still.

There was a time and a place.

He wasn’t going to do that.

So he went back to his studio, and he ate his dinner, which was pretty good - Wilford was getting better at making human food, at least.

* * *

Wilford came into Jack’s room, and he looked sheepish.

“You’re mad at me,” he said to Jack. 

“I’m mad in general,” Jack said. “You’re partially in the direction I’m being mad at.”

“I’m sorry,” said Wilford.

“Do you know what you’re sorry for?”

They’d had these kinds of discussions before.

It was… it was complicated, to explain this shit, but, well, it helped to make it clear.

“Because I had sex with Anti on the kitchen table?”

“Yes, that’ part of it,” said Jack. 

“Is it because it was the table?”

“Yes,” said Jack, “and because it was Anti, and you didn’t tell me that you were going to do it.”

“I’m sorry,” said Wilford.

“What are you sorry for?”

“... for upsetting you?”

Wilford looked lost.

“Okay,” said Jack, “so I am okay with the both of us sleeping around with other people. But I wish you hadn’t fucked Anti.”

“I’m sorry,” said Wilford, and he looked anxious.

Jack sighed.

Wilford didn’t… get how people worked, but he was doing his best.

“I am alright with you sleeping with Anti,” said Jack, “and it’s not like we can go back in time and fix it.”

“Well,” said Wilford.

“... I don’t want you to,” said Jack, because who knew what Wilford was going to do, if he really wanted to. 

The joys of being intimate (and cohabiting) with someone that wasn't human, and didn't entirely follow time the way regular humans did.

"I'm... I'm okay with you sleeping around, like I said," said Jack. "And if you want to keep being intimate with Anti... I'm not gonna stop you."

"Does that mean you don't want me to do it, and you're just pretending to be alright with it, or does this mean that you're okay with it?"

"It means I wish you hadn't done it, and I need a little bit of time to get used to it, but I can live with it," said Jack, and he took a bite out of his shepherd's pie. "I'm sorry for not acting as maturely as I could have back there."

Wilford shrugged.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?"

"For a little bit," said Jack. "If that's alright."

"Of course," said Wilford, and then he was slipping out of the room.

Jack stared down at his food, and he frowned.

Was he being a jerk? 

Nah. 

Wilford always said when he was being a jerk.

And at least shit was out in the open, right?

* * * 

Three days later, Jack played Mariokart in his living room. 

"So when is Mister Pink Mustache going to be moving out?"

Anti was draped over he back of the couch, indolent as a particularly obnoxious house cat.

"What?"

Jack glanced at Anti, one eyebrow up.

"When is he gone?"

"You mean, like, for good?"

"Right."

"He's not," said Jack. "Unless you know something I don't."

"I know plenty of things that you don't," Anti said, his tone breezy.

Jack rolled his eyes, and his car skidded on screen, to avoid a banana peel. 

"We're not breaking up, if that's what you were hoping for," he told Anti. 

"Aren't you jealous that he diddled you?"

"Right now, as we speak, he is out "diddling" someone else," said Jack, his tone flat.

"Oh," said Anti.

Jack couldn't see the little shit's face, but he fancied that it fell.

He shouldn't have found it quite so satisfying, but... well, Jack could be as much of a cunt about certain things as anyone else, and there was something satisfying about it. 

"So why were you so torn up about him diddling me?"

"Because I don't like you very much," said Jack.

"Oh," said Anti.

Jack almost felt guilty - had he hurt Anti's feelings?

Well, no.

He'd never exactly been _subtle_ about his dislike of the annoying little fuck. 

He was just usually less... blunt about it. 

"Well," said Anti, "he ate me out on the kitchen table. And blew me."

"So he told me," said Jack, as he narrowly avoided a particularly nasty attack. 

"And you're not mad?"

"I'd rather you didn't fuck on my kitchen table," said Jack. 

"Why?"

"Because I eat off of it," said Jack. "I know that you guys don't really get sick the way I do, and that you don't really need to worry about that sort of thing... but I do."

"Oh," said Anti. "So I didn't cause some big rift in your relationship?"

"Not really, no," said Jack. "I don't know why you thought it would."

"Because... that's how it works. Someone sleeps with your partner, it causes a big rift, etc," said Anti, and he had slid off of the back of the couch, to sit next to Jack.

"Not for everyone," said Jack. "Some folks have open relationships. Like me."

"But how does that even count as a relationship? One of the cornerstones of it being a relationship is that you're not with anyone else."

"You're not even human," said Jack, and he was grinding his teeth.

How did Anti always manage to find a way to get under his skin like this?

He needed to be less easily riled up - it couldn't be good for him. 

He sighed, and he flopped back into his seat, covering his face with both hands. 

"Are you _sure_ you're not jealous?"

Anti's tone was downright... chummy, and it made Jack want to punch the little shit.

"I'm not jealous," said Jack, and he quit his game, because he wasn't going to just sit here and grind his teeth.

"So why are you so bothered?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Jack made his way upstairs. 

He could, at the very least, get some more recording in, right?

When frustrated, be productive.

If nothing else, his viewers liked it when he was a little on the testy side.

* * *

Jack was taking a break in filming when Wilford walked in.

Wilford... looked like himself.

He was wearing a pair of trousers, suspenders, and a white button down.

He looked remarkably put together.

"Jack," said Wilford, and he smiled what he probably thought was a winning smile.

"Wilf," said Jack, and he kept his own expression neutral.

"I was just thinking of you," said Wilf. "How would you like me to do something for you."

"I'm good for now, thanks," said Jack.

And Wilford's face fell. 

It fell, and it broke like a plate from a height.

"Are you mad at me?"

"I'm upset," said Jack. "I thought you had better taste than that."

"Than my lady friends?"

Wilford leaned against the door, his arms crossed across his chest.

"No," said Jack. "Anti. I don't... I'm still not happy about that."

"Do you want to punish me for it?"

Wilford's expression was calm, but there was something devilish behind his eyes.

Admittedly, it was Wilford, so there was _always_ something devilish behind his eyes.

"I don't want to hit you when I'm mad," said Jack.

"Are you mad?"

Jack shrugged.

"I don't know," he said. 

"Why don't you take it out on me?"

And Wilford was... getting on the floor, on his knees, and he was looking up at Jack with those big brown eyes of his.

"I'm eternally sorry," said Wilford. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just wanted to have some fun."

Jack sighed, and he combed his fingers through Wilford's hair.

"I know," he told Wilford. "Thank you for the apology."

"Am I forgiven?"

"You're forgiven," said Jack.

"You should punish me," said Wilford, his tone one of suggestion. "So that the message really sinks in."

Jack snorted.

"You just want me to beat you up," he told Wilford.

"Well, yes," said Wilford, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Jack took a handful of Wilford's hair in his hand, forcing Wilford to look up at him, and Wilford's face was downright _beatific_ , like a painting of a saint.

Yeah, he definitely was in the mood to get his ass beat.

Not that Jack was going to complain too much.

Especially when it came to getting a chance to beat up Wilford. 

"Are you going to apologize to me again?"

"I'm sorry, Jack," said Wilford, and he was putting actual emotion in his voice.

"Well," said Jack. "Well."

"Well?"

"Get up," said Jack, "and bend over my chair."

They were in the recording room, not the bedroom, which made things a bit more tricky, but... fuck it.

"Yes, sir," said Wilford, and his expression was downright wicked. "Although I think you're going to need to get out of the chair first."

Jack rolled his eyes.

"You're such a brat, you know that?"

"I thought that was one of the things you liked about me, sir," said Wilford.

Jack snorted, and he stood up, stretching, just a bit, then indicating the chair.

Wilford leaned against the chair, holding on to the back of it, and his ass was in the air. 

Hmm....

How was Jack going to do this?

He shoved his hands in his pockets, and his wrist pressed against his belt.

Yeah, that could work. That could most definitely work.

But first.... 

Jack pressed close to Wilford, grinding his hips against Wilford's ass, and Wilford moaned like he was being paid for it.

"Oh, fuck," Wilford groaned, and he was clutching at the back of the chair, his knuckles turning white. 

"You're just a horny thing, aren't you?"

"I am," Wilford said, his voice thick.

"You want to be used. You want to be _fucked_."

"I want you to do whatever you want to me," said Wilford, and his voice was so sincere that it broke a little bit of Jack's heart.

Who knew that whatever type of eldritch abomination Wilford was could sound sincere?

What even was sincerity, in this specific instance.

Sometimes, Jack thought that Wilford was playing some kind of long game, although Jack wasn't sure what that long game even was.

Maybe he was overthinking it.

The whole mess of it was complicated, but... fuck it.

He had a body that wanted to be hurt, and he was able to hurt it.

"Well," said Jack. "What am I going to do to you?"

"I deserve to be punished," Wilford said, and his voice was very serious.

"Why do you deserve to be punished?"

"Because I hurt someone who was very important to me," said Wilford.

"And you think you should be punished for that?"

"I think I'd feel better for it," said Wilford.

"So this is all about your feelings?"

"Yes," said Wilford, not a trace of shame in his voice. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"We'll just have to sort you out then, won't we?"

"Yes," said Wilford, and now there was a tremble of anticipation in his voice.

Jack took his belt off.

He took it off carefully, so as not to smack himself in the hand, and then he was doubling it up in his hand, and he was slapping his own hand with it.

"I'm going to belt you," he told Wilford.

"You... you are?"

"I am."

"Thank you," said Wilford.

"After every hit," said Jack, "you're going to thank me."

"Yes, sir," said Wilford.

Jack drew his arm back, and he hit Wilford on the ass with it.

Wilford jumped, and then he frowned.

"Shouldn't my pants be down?"

"I mean," said Jack, in a friendly tone of voice, grabbing for Wilford's suspenders and unclipping them, "I was thinking that I'd warm you up a bit, not go full force on your ass like I wanted to whip it clean off. But fuck it."

"I thought you were belting me, not whipping me," said Wilford, his tone borderline angelic as Jack pulled down his pants, then his boxers.

"No comments from the peanut gallery," said Jack, and then he stepped back.

Wilford had a very nice ass.

A much nicer ass than anything that... eldritch had a right to have, truth be told.

And yet, here was Jack, about to blister it.

He smiled, and maybe it wasn't the most pleasant smile, but it was his, and he... he was looking forward to this.

He brought his arm back, and he slapped Wilford across the ass with the flat of the belt.

It cracked.

"Oh! Thank you, sir," said Wilford, and he was shaking.

Jack grinned, and he hit again, right in the same spot.

"Thank you, sir," said Wilford, and his voice was thick.

God, Jack had forgotten what a pain slut Wilford could be.

"Good boy," said Jack, In a fake consolatory tone.

And then he hit Wilford again and again and again, the cracking blending together with Wilford's crying out, Wilford thanking him.

Wilford's cock was hard, hanging thick and purple between his legs, and Wilford's legs were beginning to shake.

By the time Wilford's ass was a mess of purple and red marks, Jack was hard as well, and having a bit of trouble remembering what it was he wanted to do.

Did he want to fuck Wilford like this?

Or leave Wilford hard and desperate?

Hmm....

Jack grinned at Wilford's back, and then he pressed close, grinding his hips forward.

"Say you're a desperate little slut," he told Wilford, and his cock was hard, right up against Wilford's ass.

Wilford made a desperate sort of noise - maybe it was a groan of pain, maybe it was a moan of arousal.

"I'm a desperate little slut," said Wilford.

"And you're my desperate little slut, aren't you?"

"I am," Wilford said. "I'm your desperate little slut, Jack. I'll do anything you say, just... please don't stop, please don't stop."

"Don't stop what, Wilford? Don't stop hurting you? Don't stop hitting you with my belt like a bratty child, since that's what you're acting like?"

"Don't stop being with me!" 

Wilford's voice cracked, and Jack's heart leaped into his throat.

Oh.

Wilford was having actual, for real emotions right now.

Not just... well, sexy play fun emotions, but for real emotions.

"What do you want, Wilford?"

"I want you to fuck me, right here," said Wilford. "Right now, please, use me, use me to give you pleasure, since I... since I hurt you, I want to make it up to you, please!" 

“Let me just… get the lube,” said Jack, and if he had been thinking clearly, he’d remember that he didn’t actually want to have jizz on his chair.

But he wasn’t, so he grabbed the little bottle of lube he kept in his desk drawer for those occasions when he felt like jerking off and watching something in his studio, and he lubed up his cock, and fingered Wilford open with something like desperation.

Maybe he was having more feelings about all of this… whatnot than he thought he was.

It wasn’t that he was even mad at Wilford for stepping out, because he… really wasn’t.

If it hadn’t been _Anti_ , things would be fine and dandy.

But fuck it.

Jack guided the head of his cock into Wilford’s ass, and he pushed himself in, slow and sweet, so perfectly fitted that it was almost painful, except it wasn’t.

Well, maybe it was painful for Wilford, with all those welts on his ass, but that wasn’t Jack’s problem, was it?

No, right now all Jack needed to worry about was sinking into this hot, sweet ass, one hand on Wilford’s hip, one hand buried in Wilford’s hair.

“Fuck,” said Wilford, and his voice broke. “Jack, use me, please, Jack, please, just use me, please, please… please!”

So Jack did.

No witty banter, no reach around, nothing - just his cock, as deep as it could go, pounding into Wilford.

The soundproofing absorbed all of the slapping sounds, the moans, but… mmm… Wilford could be louder.

“Say you’re sorry,” said Jack, and he slapped Wilford, right on the sore spots.

Wilford bellowed out a “sorry,” and he humped back into Jack’s cock, he gasped and moaned and sobbed, his knuckles still white on the chair, and his ass was gripping Jack tighter.

God, this was perfect.

This right here?

Utter fucking perfection.

Jack didn’t want it to ever end - he wanted to stay here, hurting Wilford, fucking him, glorying in the sweet headspace that came from being an utter fucking cunt.

He buried himself as deep as he could, humping awkwardly, and then he was digging his teeth into the side of Wilford’s neck, and that… that was going to leave a mark. 

That was going to leave one _hell_ of a mark, and he sucked, and he moved his hips faster, until he was cumming inside of Wilford, he was cummign as dug his teeth into Wilford’s neck, and Wilford was shuddering against him, going stiff as he just… took in Jack’s cum.

“Fuck,” said Wilford, his voice rough. 

“Hmm?”

Jack kissed the bruise - and wow, what a bruise that was.

“I needed that,” Wilford said, and he sagged against the chair.

He was still hard, still trembling.

“Shit,” said Jack, and a wave of guilt washed over him. “I’m sorry….”

“Don’t be,” said Wilford, and he turned around to grin at Jack like something out of a horror movie. “I liked it.”

Wilford was standing there, his cock hard and throbbing in front of him, and Jack’s cum was dripping down his thigh, down his leg, and that… shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, should it? 

He licked his lips, and he looked down at Wilford’s cock, then up at Wilford’s face.

Wilford raised an eyebrow. 

“You want to get me off?”

“I wouldn’t say no to it,” said Jack. 

The guilt was still weighing down on his back.

And Wilford was… cupping Jack’s cheek, thumbing it, and his expression was infinitely compassionate.

How was it that Wilford was so good at doing that?

Good at being infinitely compassionate, while at the me time being so bad at human interactions otherwise?

Jack wasn’t going to think too hard about that, though, because he was getting on his knees, his hands on Wilford’s hips, and then he was… he was sucking on Wilford’s cock.

He was, admittedly, doing it awkwardly - his gag reflex was too sensitive for Wilford to take his cock this deep, but he could at the very least suck on the head, and jerk off the bits that weren’t in his mouth.

He sucked, and he sucked like he was being paid for it, as Wilford moaned.

And then Wilford was grabbing Jack’s hands, forcing them against his sore ass.

“Squeeze it while you suck me off,” said Wilford, and he was looking right into Jack’s eyes, which should have been awkward, because… well, it was an odd position.

But Wilford was grinning, as cock as he ever was, and Jack was blushing, as he dug his fingers into the hot skin.

God, Wilford was just… he was into this, and he was moaning like he was being paid for it.

There was a little bit of cum left on Wilford’s ass, and Jack’s fingers were smearing in it, and okay, it was… it was kind of gross, but it was also kind of hot. 

It was more than kind of hot, it was actually really hot, and all of this - the switching dynamics, the… everything, it was making Jack’s head spin. 

Jack just… sucked.

He bobbed his head, he sucked, and he squeezed Wilford’s ass, as Wilford rolled his hips forward, just deep enough that Jack gagged.

Not much - just enough for the sound and the… unpleasantness, but there was something almost satisfying about that, too. 

It did something to help with the guilt, at any rate.

He sucked, drooling down his chin, and then he gagged again, but he took it, holding on by the metaphorical skin of his teeth, as Wilford went all the way down his throat, and then he was gagging, but Wilford was moaning, shifting his hips, and his cock was swelling.

“Good boy,” said Wilford, in that same infinitely compassionate voice, and Jack swallowed reflexively, which made Wilford’s hips stutter against him.

And then Wilford was pulling out - a quick jerk, which made Jack gag, _again_ , which was unpleasant, but Wilford was jerking himself off, and he was… he was cumming on Jack’s face, all across the bridge of Jack’s nose, dripping down to Jack’s mouth, and Jack darted his tongue out, to taste some of it. 

“Such a good boy,” Wilford said, and then he was cupping Jack’s face, and he was kissing Jack on the mouth, no doubt tasting his own cium. 

“I’m sorry,” Jack mumbled, and he was shaking.

“What are you sorry for?”

“For… being a shit.”

“You weren’t being a shit. But you were also allowed to have your feelings. Okay?”

“Okay.”

And then Wilford was… reaching down, into his pants which were all the way around his ankles, and he was taking out… a handkerchief?

He was taking a handkerchief and wiping off Jack’s face, and then he kissed Jack’s head.

“How about we get you some food?”

“Don’t you need aftercare?”

“This is my aftercare,” Wilford said, in a scolding sort of voice, and then Wilford was helping Jack stand up, pulling Jack’s pants up.

Jack’s cock was, of course, still flopping in the breeze, but… it was something.

* * *

Wilford made Jack eggs.

They were the kind of eggs that Jack liked so much - wibbly in the middle, with firm whites. 

He even made toast.

And then Jack was sitting at the table, and he was eating eggs and toast, and Wilford was next to him, pressing their knees together, and it was… it was all good. 

It was all exactly what he needed, what he wanted. 

He took a bite of his toast, and he smiled at Wilford.

Wilford smiled back.

* * *

It was three in the morning, and Anti was awake. 

So was Wilford - if Wilford every really… slept.

But Anti was lying out on the roof, his hands behind his head, and Wilford was on the roof as well.

He was wearing something… femmey.

That always confused Anti. 

What was the point of doing that?

But then again, he never really… understood the point of any of that.

WIlford didn’t seem to understand it either, but in a different direction.

“So why do you like making Jack so miserable?” 

Wilford said it in such a… casual tone of voice.

Anti shot Wilford a look, out of the corner of his eye.

“I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“You pursued me, specifically, to upset Jack,” said Wilford. 

His tone was still mellow.

It was… somewhat unsettling. 

Wilford could manage to be both unsettling and amicable at the same time.

He was fiddling with his knife, which he’d tucked into the garter, under his skirt.

“It’s funny when he gets shouty,” said Anti. 

Wilford took the switchblade out, and casually flicked it open and shut.

It made a clicking noise.

It was a rhythmic clicking noise, and it had been somewhat annoying, but now it was… almost threatening.

Um.

He licked his lips. 

“That can’t be the only reason,” said Wilford, in that same deceptively calm tone. 

_Click, click, click_.

Anti was getting jittery.

He was tempted to glitch out, but Wilford’s hand was on his wrist.

The hand not fiddling with the knife.

“You know I can follow you when you do that, right?”

Casual, calm, chill voice.

_Click, click, click._

“Why are you following me?”

“Because I like Jack. Jack is… Jack is interesting. He’s nice, he’s funny, he’s got a tight ass, a wicked mouth, he hits like he hates me and kisses me like I’m the best thing in the world. He makes me laugh, and he likes me.”

“Is that a good reason to keep a person around?”

“There are worse reasons,” said Wilford. “And my reasons for doing things are my own reasons, and I wouldn't want to do anything horrible to you. It would upset Jack.”

“What kind of horrible?”

“I could unmake you,” said Wilford. “The old fashioned way with a knife, or the… older ways.” 

“Wouldn’t the older ways be old fashioned?”

“These are… let it be said, older than fashion,” said Wilford.

“That would explain how you dress.”

Wilford raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re one to talk,” he said.

“So what are you going to do?”

“If I have to,” said Wilford, “I will unmake you. I will unravel the very fabric of existence, to make it so that you never existed. I’ll be sad to see you go, don’t get me wrong. You’re entertaining, and I think it’s good to see Jack on his toes a bit. But… you’re pushing it.”

“Unmaking me would unmake Jack,” said Anti, although he wasn’t sure if that was true or not.

“If I unmake you and Jack, he’ll never have existed,” said Wilford, as if that made perfect sense.

Anti was reminded, once again, that Wilford wasn’t from around here.

Was very much… not from around here.

His logic didn’t follow human logic, despite the fact that he was human shaped.

There was a terror to that.

“So,” said Wilford, “will you stop being such a shit?”

“I’ll stop being such a shit,” said Anti, his voice breaking.

“Good,” Wilford said,and then his voice was cheerful, as he wrapped an arm around Anti’s middle, pulling Anti closer to him, so that they were hip to hip. 

Anti froze, then relaxed, and leaned into Wilford. 

In a weird way, it was nice, to know where he stood.

Maybe that’s what he had needed.

Anti wasn’t human either, for all that he was human shaped.

He was closer to human than… whatever it was that Wilford was, admittedly. 

“Do you ever miss the stars singing?”

Wilford’s voice was quiet.

“It’s been a long time,” said Anti. 

“Yeah,” said Wilford, and his tone was wistful. “Maybe, someday, they’ll come back.”

“You think?”

“They have to.”

* * *

Anti and Wilford just... sat up there, watching the sky. 

There was something calming about knowing that Wilford... meant business.

Knowing that he was no longer on shaky ground.

"I want you to fuck me," said Anti, turning to look at Wilford.

Wilford raised an eyebrow.

"I just threatened to wipe you from all of existence, and you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes," said Anti.

"Fair enough," said Wilford, and he smiled like a thing with teeth in the long grass.

And then he was gone.

There wasn't a glitch or anything like that, he was just... gone.

And then he was back.

"Where did you go?"

"I double checked with Jack," said Wilford, and he looked faintly proud of himself.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want him to be upset again," said Wilford.

"Why do you care so much?"

"Because... when he's upset, it makes me feel bad," said Wilford, his expression thoughtful. 

"You're turning soft in your old age," said Anti. 

Wilford shrugged, and he took Anti's hand in his own, pressing it between his legs, to squeeze his cock through the panties.

Anti gave it a long, slow stroke, and Wilford moaned, a sweet, low sound.

"What's got you so worked up?"

"You're cute," said Wilford. "And now that I know what you taste like, I can't help but imagine what you would feel like around my cock."

"Oh," said Anti, and okay, maybe he was blushing a little bit, because flattery is nice, even if you're not human, and certain things would probably get anyone worked up. 

"So what say you we retire to my bedroom, so we don't have to worry about any inconveniently broken bones?"

The roof was indeed at a slant, and it probably would have been awkward as fuck to try to have sex on it. 

And then they were just... on Wilford's bed.

It was... different from Anti's glitching, to be sure.

And Wilford had Anti pinned to the bed by the hips, and was kissing Anti.

Wilford's skirt was riding up, and his cock was hard against Anti's belly.

Anti groaned, right into Wilford's mouth, and he grabbed at Wilford's back, digging his nails in, shredding Wilford's shirt.

Wilford pulled back, and he frowned.

"I like that shirt," Wilford said, in a scolding tone of voice.

"It's just a shirt," said Anti. 

"Still," said Wilford. "If you're going to do naughty things with your hands, I'm going to take them away from you."

"... are you going to cut my hands off?"

Anti could... deal with that. 

It would be painful to grow them back, and incredibly messy, but... totally worth it. 

He'd still rather not, but, well... in the state of mind he was currently in, he'd totally go in for whatever it was that Wilford wanted. 

"No," said Wilford. "That would upset Jack."

And then Wilford was just... grabbing restraints.

He had underbed restraints, it seemed, and he was... using them.

He was tying Anti's arms to the headboard, and that was... oh.

Anti could phase out of them no problem, but... he kinda liked it like this.

Being (theoretically) helpless for Wilford.

And Wilford was smiling down at him. 

"I'm going to do so many things to you," said Wilford, and... there was that click again.

The click, and there the cold metal of the knife, right up against his side, and Wilford was just... was just cutting off Anti's clothes.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I wanted to keep that shirt or something?"

"No," said Wilford, "because I know you don't care about your clothes."

That was, admittedly, true, but still.

The air was cold against his bare chest, and Wilford's hands were warm against Anti's bare skin.

And then... Wilford was biting him.

Biting him, right over one nipple, and Anti gasped and arched his back, his eyes squeezing shut. 

It was a hard bite - Wilford had a lot more jaw strength than he seemed to, and Anti was squirming harder, his mouth open as he panted.

"How's that feel?"

Wilford's voice was sweet.

"Oh, did you do something?"

Anti grinned at Wilford, showing all of his teeth - even the ones he usually used some kind of glamour to hide. 

Wilford smiled back, and there was something... unsettling in the backs of his eyes.

"I guess I'll just have to try harder, hm?"

And then there was another bite, on the shoulder this time, and Anti howled and arched into it.

The shouty tit would probably hear it.

Oh well.

Anti heaved on the restraints, but nothing happened.

He was well and truly held in place.

He could, theoretically, glitch out, but what would be the point of that?

Especially when Wilford was dragging his nails across the length of Anti's torso, and that was... oh god, that was _good_ , it bit into his skin, sent little ripples of arousal right through him, and he was thrashing.

Only... only for Wilford to get up, and to... fasten his legs open?!

Holy fuck, that was... wow.

"Now," said Wilford, and he was shoving Anti's pants down - not even off, just down - "I've wanted that lovely cock inside of me ever since I had it in my mouth."

"Doesn't having it in your mouth count as you having it inside of you?" Anti's brain caught up with the previous conversation. "And you said you wanted to fuck me."

"How is me riding your dick not me fucking you?"

Wilford's tone was one of pure curiosity, as he wrapped a hand around Anti's cock and began to stroke it, sliding a fingertip under Anti's foreskin, probably just to make Anti squirm.

Anti gasped, and Wilford grinned.

"That wasn't an answer, you know."

Anti thrashed on the bed, yanking on the restraints, and Wilford leaned down, kissing along the line of Anti's chest, and Anti sobbed.

"I'm sorry," Anti said, and that was a new one, wasn't it?

Wilford seemed to be drawing all sorts of things out of him.

"So what's your answer?"

Another tender kiss, and another stroke, and Anti was... Anti was sobbing, thrashing harder - the mix of sweetness and pain was enough to make his head spin, and it was hard to think, to breathe, to... do anything.

Why was he this worked up?

He wasn’t usually this easy to rile up.

… that was an utter lie, but still.

He was usually better at keeping it together on some level.

There was some part of Anti that stood on the sidelines and sneered at the world.

But that wasn’t here right now. 

Right now, Anti was being kissed, Anti was being stroked, and Anti was completely lost in it, as he whined and bellowed, squirming and tugging against the restraints.

And Wilford was… leaning in to kiss and suck at Anti’s nipples, and that was enough to make Anti sob and twitch some more, because it wasn’t fair, how was Wilford getting him so worked up, without doing much of anything?

His cock was being stroked, his nipples were being played with, but this wasn’t… it wasn’t normally something that would make him want to climb the walls.

And then it was Dark’s fist, slowly going up and down Anti’s shaft, and Anti was thrashing harder, his heels digging into the mattress, his hips bucking.

He was swearing too, the kind of swearing that could get you kicked out of most public places.

And he was just… fucking Wilford’s fist.

And then there was lube on his cock, and that made everything else work faster, everything was just… happening.

What was happening?

Fucked if Anti knew.

And then… then, Wilford was crawling on top of Anti, and Anti’s cock was along Wilford’s ass, along the crack, and then lower, and Anti was slipping in.

Anti was inside of Wilford, and Wilford was groaning, digging his knees into Anti’s sides, and Anti was rolling his hips up.

Wilford was… oh, Wilford was hot and tight, squeezing Anti like a vice, and he must have prepped himself at some point, but Anti hadn’t been paying attention to that, he had just been… feeling whatever it was he was feeling.

Whatever flavor of elder thing Wilford was, it was… complicated.

Complicated, confusing, but holy fuck did it feel good.

It all felt so good, and his heels were digging into the mattress, as he tried to thrust up.

But no - he was being pinned down, and he was panting, as he was ridden.

“See,” said Wilford, and he was holding up his skirt, so that Anti could see the way the skirt was being moved by WIlford’s cock, “see, even though your cock is inside of me, I am most definitely fucking you. I’m the one who’s got all the power here, wouldn’t you say?”

Anti nodded, didn’t say anything else, just let himself be used. 

He was something like a living dildo, just a thing to be ridden, to give pleasure, even as the pleasure building at the base of his spine was beginning to make him go cross eyed.

He was moaning - he was moaning loudly, and he was thrashing, his hips jerking up and forward, as he tried to get deeper, as he tried… he didn’t know what he wanted.

He was in a body, and it was this body, and Wilford was doing things to that body, and that was all that mattered.

He moaned and sobbed, bucking his hips, letting Wilford take his pleasure - take both of their pleasure, until it was all knotted together in one big tangled cord, and this connection… it was a little bit like what it had been like, before he was stuck in this bag of meat, wearing a face that wasn’t technically his.

… of course it wasn’t his, he didn’t really have a face.

Not really.

But he looked into Wilford’s face, and he saw some kind of familiarity there, even if it was a different sort of familiarity.

And then he came.

It should have taken longer - Anti wasn’t some kid, just shooting off at the drop of a hat, after all.

But… he was cumming.

He was cumming so hard that it almost hurt, and he was sobbing, because the pressure breaking was almost a relief, as his toes curled and his back arched.

He was panting, and then… then, Wilford was pulling his own skirt back, and he was looking at his own cock as he jerked off, then meeting Anti’s eyes, and he was grinning, a wolfish grin. 

He had pushed the panties to the side, and he was stroking his cock.

He was twitching around Anti’s cock, and he was rolling his hips, riding Anti harder, and it was… oh, it was intense.

It was almost painful, as he milked Anti for every last drop of cum, and then WIlford was gasping, his knees squeezing harder, and he was… he was cummign across Anti’s chest, and Anti was groaning, and it was a mess, but… fuck it.

Wilford leaned forward, and he pressed a delicate kiss to Anti’s mouth, and Anti kissed him back, with something like desperation. 

He was… going to fall asleep, and that was a wonder, considering how hard it was for Anti to sleep most of the time.

But sleep he did - he was vaguely aware of being cleaned up, of being unfastened.

And then he was asleep, his face pressed into Wilford’s chest, and he was snoring, and drooling, just a bit. 

He didn’t care.

Somewhere, far off, the stars were singing.

* * *

Jack woke up to an empty bed and a bit of a headache. 

He was… crabby, although he couldn’t put his finger on why.

He did, at the very least, appreciate the fact that Wilford had asked about various sexual shenanigans.

But sleep.

Sleep was nice, and sometimes Wilford forgot just how Jack felt about it, considering how Wilford… didn’t really need it.

Anti was sitting in the kitchen, and he was drinking a cup of coffee.

There was a cup next to the coffee maker as well, and Jack eyed it.

Why was Anti being… helpful.

That set off a few alarms, honestly.

Hm.

“I made a pot,” Anti said.

“Did you,” said Jack, keeping his tone neutral.

“I figured you’d want some,” said Anti. 

“I appreciate it,” said Jack, and he paused, sniffing the pot as discretely as he could.

Yeah, that was coffee.

This was the nicest thing that Anti had ever done for Jack, and it was… unsettling, but fuck it.

It was probably part of… something or other, but he was going to enjoy it while he could.

Anti being Anti, he’d probably get bored pretty quickly.

Reap the benefits while he could, right?

* * *

Anti continued to be nice. 

Continued to be nice all week, to the point that Jack was getting jittery.

Jittery enough that, when Wilford came into bed one night, Jack actually jumped.

“You okay?”

Wilford was giving him a worried look.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Jack, and he sighed, flopping back on the bed.

Wilford was wearing silky pink pajama pants, and he apparently wanted some company tonight.

“You seem jumpier than usual.”

“Just Anti,” said Jack, as he turned the light off. 

If Jack didn’t know better, he would have thought that Wilford was going stif.

“Is he doing anything he shouldn’t be doing?”

“No,” said Jack, and Wilford curled around Jack, his chin on Jack’s shoulder.

“So what’s the problem?”

“He’s being so normal,” said Jack. “It makes me nervous.”

“Maybe he’s turned a corner.”

“A corner,” Jack said, his tone blank.

“I threatened to unmake him, if he kept being a shit,” said Wilford, as if that was just a thing that people did. 

“You threatened to _what_?”

“Unmake him,” said Wilford. “It’s a thing that we do.”

“Oh,” said Jack.

He didn’t think about the fact that Anti and Wilford weren’t exactly… human, even if they were human shaped.

“I didn’t like him upsetting you,” Wilford said, and he pressed a kiss into Jack’s shoulder.

Jack sighed, and he let Wilford curl tighter around him, nuzzling into his neck.

“You didn’t need to threaten him,” said Jack, and he was aware how embarrassingly weak his voice sounded.

“Okay,” said Wilford, and he kept snuggling in, his hands on Jack’s belly.

That… wasn’t really an answer, on Wilford’s end of things, but it was probably the best that Jack was gonna get. 

Sometimes Wilford didn’t make much sense, but well… eldritch abominations were… themselves.

“You know,” WIlford says, right into the back of Jack’s head, “Anti is kind of cute.”

Jack rolled his eyes. 

“You’re a horn dog,” Jack said, but he was squirming, as Wilford’s cock pressed against his ass. 

“Isn’t it hound dog?”

“No, that’s a song,” said Jack. “A horn dog is just someone who wants to have sex all the time.”

“Why wouldn’t they want to have sex all the time? Sex is great.”

“Well, yeah, but… there are other things in the world to do that are pretty great.’

“Food is good,” Wilford said, and he sounded sleepy, and then he was… pressing kisses along the back of Jack’s neck.

Jack shuddered, his whole body clearly on edge, and he pressed closer, beginning to pant.

It felt.. It felt good. 

It was setting off all the delicate nerves, racing up and down his back, making the arousal in his belly twist like a den of snakes.

Oh god.

He was… god, he was being kissed, he was being bitten, nuzzled… Wilford seemed so _into_ him - his skin, his sounds, all of it.

And Jack was shuddering. 

Oh fuck, he was shaking - how could he be so worked up already?

But oh, Wilford’s kisses were so… they were igniting Jack, they were leaving him squirming, grinding against the hardness of Wilford’s erection, practically helpless.

“I think you should kiss him,” said Wilford, right in Jack’s ear. 

“Who?”

“Anti,” said Wilford. “You should kiss Anti.”

“Anti would try to eat my face,” said Jack, and then he groaned, as Wilford bit the back of his neck.

“He’d never do that,” asid Wilford, with some assurance.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh yeah,” said Wilford. “Just think… sinking your dick into his cock, and then I’ll… mmm… I’ll fuck you, you fuck him….”

Jack whined, and then Wilford was… Wilford was pushing apart the cheeks of Jack’s ass open, and then he was rubbing the head of his cock between Jack’s cheeks, and Jack ground back.

‘You’re already so tight… it feels so nice, as I press the head of my cock right into you, no lube or prep or anything… your ass just tries to pull me in. Don’t you want me inside?”

“Yes,” Jack whined, and... yeah, he was whining.

He was nothing so much of a mess, a whining, mewling mess who just wanted cock.

Just wanted _Wilford’s_ cock, and he wasn’t even ashamed.

“I’m gonna sink into you, no lube, nothing,” crooned WIlford, and he was, slowly, carefully.

Jack squeezed around the intrusion, and he was panting into his pillow, as WIlford just… kept pushing in.

“You don’t need it, do you? You just want my cock, you just want it however… I could bend you over, and just… take you. I bet Anti would feel the same, wouldn’t he?”

“Are you just trying to get me to associate… mmm, are you trying to get me to… trying to get me to associate Anti with… with, oh fuck, Wilford, please, please!”

“Hmmm? You were saying?”

“Goddamn it, Wilford,” Jack grumbled.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Jack hissed.

“So will you at least think about it?”

“Think about what?”

“Think about… think about Anti. Imagine having him under you….”

WIlford was moving slowly, to account for the lack of lube, and his cock was thick, throbbing.

Wilford didn’t exactly… work like regular humans, but it was a complicated thing, because when he wanted to, Wilford could act human. 

Well… human-ish.

If you squinted.

His cock was doing… something, to excrete more lube, and that ended up making things easier, but it was still… it was still a bit of a burn. 

Maybe that was one reason why Jack was enjoying himself so much….

Jack was shaking, and he was grinding back, and when he closed his eyes… okay, he could see it.

He could see Anti under him, legs wide, expression grumpy, eyes squeezed shut.

And Jack could fuck him, could fuck him hard and good, hard and good enough that Anti would cry out for it, Anti would beg for more.

Anti, begging... that was a fun image.

For a whole bunch of reasons

And Wilford's cock was still fucking into Jack, filling him up, just... using him.

Wilford's teeth were in his shoulder, and Wilford's hands were on his hip... and then Wilford was beginning to spank him, and that was... that was a bit uncomfortable, but oh fuck, that was... that was good, that was so good.

It was all good - it was all a dizzying mess of sensations; being fucked, being kissed, being held, being bitten.

His cock was being ground into the mattress, and he was going to cum, he was already so close to cumming, how could he already be so close to cumming, it hadn't been that long, had it?

Jack came across the sheets, across his own belly, getting stickiness in his shirt, smearing it across his... well, everything, panting, still shaking from the tremors.

And he was still being fucked, fucked hard, and... then Wilford was pulling out, and he was jerking off, right onto Jack's ass, and that was sticky as well, sticky and wet.

Wilford was smearing it into the skin of Jack's ass, some of it getting tangled in the hair there.

"Good boy," Wilford said, and then he was... kissing along Jack's back again, as Jack shuddered.

"You... you really want me to fuck Anti?"

"I want you to at least think about it," said Wilford. "Although if you don't want it... well, that's fine."

"Is it? You seem awfully into it."

Wilford shrugged. 

"I can live without my ultimate threesome fantasy," he told Jack. "I'd rather you be happy."

"If you say so," said Jack, and he licked his lips. 

"I mean it," Wilford said, and then he was... pulling Jack up against him, and he was cuddling Jack to his chest, his chin on top of Jack's shoulder, his nose against Jack's neck. 

"I don't want to disappoint you," Jack said, his voice quiet.

"You're willing to be here with me in the first place," said Wilford, and his voice was quiet, rumbling through his chest, making Jack's skin buzz, just a bit. 

"Well, yeah, but...."

"No but," said Wilford. "Let me be sappy and thankful, why don't you?"

"... okay," said Jack, and he sighed, leaning back into Wilford. "Thank you."

Wilford pressed a loud, smacking kiss to Jack's temple. 

Jack cackled - it was loud enough to make his ear ring. 

Wilford kissed along his jaw, gently, and Jack sighed, leaning into it, as he was held in Wilford's arms.

"How about you go take a shower, I'll go change the sheets and put them in the laundry."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," said Wilford. "It'd be easier that way."

"Well," said Jack, "If you're sure...."

"I am."

"Okay."

* * *

Jack took a shower, and came back to clean sheets.

He flopped into bed, naked and slightly damp, and Wilford snuggled up to him.

"Thanks," said Wilford.

"For what?"

Jack was pleasantly sore, almost lazy, his eyes half shut.

"For being so... open minded," said Wilford. 

"Open minded?"

"I mean," said Wilford, "I did ask you to consider doing fun sexual things with someone who tried to kill you."

Jack shrugged.

"The way my life goes these days, who isn't trying to kill me?"

"I feel like I should argue with that," said Wilford, "since I don't think that human psychology works like that. But it does make perfect sense to me."

Jack snorted.

"I'm starting to influence you," he told Wilford, his tone teasing.

"You're certainly doing something," said Wilford, his tone serious.

Jack... wasn't sure how to take that, honestly. 

But he didn't need to ponder it too long - he fell asleep, flat on his stomach, snoring into his pillow.

* * *

Anti was not expecting Jack to come onto the roof next to him, to stare at the stars.

It had been a bit of a long day - Anti had been doing his own thing, which was complex and complicated and not at all just watching cat videos on the internet all day.

It was a lot easier to not be a shit to Jack, he had to admit that. 

He wasn't as... active, but there was something kind of restful about it.

"Wilford told me about that whole conversation you guys had."

"Mmm?"

Jack was probably going to overreact to that. 

He was a shouty tit like that. 

"Did he... did he hurt you?"

"Nope," said Anti. 

It was a bit too complicated for Jack to comprehend, probably.

The difference between humans and... well, whatever he and Wilford were could sometimes be a bit... complex.

"He said he'd...."

"Unmake me, yeah," said Anti.

"What does that _mean_?"

"It's complicated," said Anti.

There was a pause of almost five minutes, and the two of them stared up at the sky.

"Does that mean you're going to tell me?"

"Nope," said Anti.

"Fair enough," said Jack, and he leaned back, looking up at the sky.

He reached out, and his hand covered Anti's, gently.

Anti made a surprised noise, but he didn't yank his hand away.

He eventually turned his hand over, so that he was holding Jack's hand.

"The stars sing," said Anti, surprising himself.

He didn't usually talk about that stuff.

"Yeah?"

"Well, they did," said Anti. "Not so much anymore."

"Is there... is there a reason?"

Anti shrugged.

"It might be because I just don't hear it anymore," said Anti. "It's complicated."

Jack nodded.

"Do you ever... do you ever miss... before?"

Jack's voice sounded tentative, as if he was worried that he was going to offend Anti.

Anti shrugged. 

"There are advantages to being like this," he said. "I... miss the advantages of the other way, sometimes, but... well, it's nice here too."

"What do you like about it here?"

"Sex," said Anti, "and food. And the sun can be nice. Cold lakes, oranges...."

"That's remarkably... nice," said Jack.

Anti shot him a loot, and resisted the urge to dig his fingers into Jack's hand.

"I'm not just a cunt all the time," he told Jack. "Maybe I'm just editing things a bit, so I don't scare you."

"Do you... do you _like_ killing people?"

"It can be fun," said Anti. "But it causes too much trouble. At least, around here, it does." 

Was that a good answer?

He couldn’t read Jack’s face.

“It must be confusing here,” said Jack at last. “I hadn’t thought of that much, honestly.”

Anti shrugged.

“That’s how it is,” he said. “You adapt and you survive.”

“That’s surprisingly… something,” said Jack.

“It doesn’t really have to be anything,” said Anti. 

He wasn’t letting go of Jack’s hand.

He didn’t want to.

How about that? 

* * *

Jack kissed Anti without thinking.

It wasn’t even a sexy kiss. 

It was just… well, a little peck.

They were both in the kitchen, and Jack had leaned down and pecked the top of Anti’s head, then gone upstairs to go do whatever it was he did when he was filming.

… well, film videos, obviously, but still. 

Anti had frozen, and he had blushed.

That was… that was very much unexpected.

It was nice that Jack didn’t hate him - Anti kind of liked being not hated, which was a revelation. 

Maybe there was something to how humans did all of that stuff. 

* * *

Jack was sprawled out on the couch, napping, when a weight landed on top of him.

He grunted, and he opened his eyes, to see… Anti’s own eyes staring into his.

Anti was lying on top of him like a very bony cat.

“Why are you on top of me?”

“You’re warm,” said Anti.

“Are you cold?”

“You’re warmer,” said Anti, which didn’t really answer the question, but… fuck it.

“Don’t bite me or scratch me or anything like that,” said Jack. 

“I won’t,” Anti said, and he sounded faintly offended. “I’m not a cat.”

“You’re not quite as cuddly,” siad Jack.

“I can be cuddly, if I wanna be,” said Anti, and he sounded huffy.

“Do you want to be?”

“I do,” said Anti, and he wrapped his arms around Jack’s middle, his head planted right on Jack’s breastbone.

That.. couldn’t have been comfortable, honestly, but fuck it. 

Anti’s eyes were already beginning to droop, and he was snoring quietly.

Jack sighed, and he let himself begin to drift.

This was weird, but it was a nice pressure, and Anti wasn’t too cold or too warm, which was nice.

It was almost like lying underneath a weighted blanket, but less sweaty.

* * *

Jack woke up with Anti still on top of him. 

He had an erection.

It was pressing against Anti’s groin, and Anti was murmuring quietly, and shifting in place.

Jack wasn’t entirely sure if Anti… slept or not - i was all a bit complicated, as far as Jack could tell.

But Anti was elsewhere, and he was murmuring something, as he drooled on Jack’s shirt.

Which was… honestly, kind of gross, honestly.

And Jack was hard, which was… a bit of a problem. 

Um.

Hmm….

It would be unethical for him to grind against Anti, because… well, Anti was sleeping, and you can’t just grind up against people while they’re asleep. 

But also Anti was squirming, and that was enough to make Jack’s cock get harder, and he was… oh, he wanted to grab Anti’s ass.

But that would be rude.

Goddamn Jack and his own conscience.

He grabbed Anti by the shoulder, and he shook Anti, gently. 

Anti snarled, sitting bolt upright, and then… oh, okay, that was… that was a lot of pressure on Jack’s cock, okay.

Jack was panting, open mouthed, and he was trying not to roll his hips up.

Okay.

That felt better than it had a right to.

Fuck.

“Havin’ good dreams, I see,” Anti said, and his tone was deadpan, as he rolled his hips, grinding down against Jack’s cock.

Jack groaned, and he held on to Anti’s hips, looking up at Anti. 

“Wow,” said Anti. “I think our cocks are actually the same.”

“Y’think?”

“I mean, mine is probably better,” said Anti.

Jack rolled his eyes.

“You wanna compare?”

“What do you mean, compare?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?”

“Fair deal,” said Anti, and he was just… unbuttoning his jeans.

Unbuttoning his jeans, and there was Anti’s cock.

It was on its way to hard, the foreskin retracting, the head swelling and turning a darker red.

“Looks like mine,” said Jack.

“Doesn’t count as a show and tell unless you show me too,” Anti sassed. 

Jack rolled his eyes, and then he wiggled his hips.

“It’s a bit hard for me to do anything here, what with you sitting on my zip,” said Jack.

“Right,” said Anti, and then he… looked as sheepish as he ever did. 

Anti scooted back, until he was resting his weight on Jack’s upper thighs, and Jack pulled his own pants open, awkwardly. 

And there was his cock, pressing up against his belly, pointing towards his chin.

“It looks like mine,” Anti said, in an agreeable tone of voice, and he was wrapping his hand around it, squeezing.

Jack moaned, rolling his hips forward.

Did he need to tell Wilford about this?

Shit.

It was hard to think, when Anti was pressing their cocks together, beginning to roll their hips.

Oh god.

That… felt better than it had a right to, and Jack’s cock was drooling pre-cum already, getting all over Anti’s shaft, spreading the slickness, making the slide that much easier.

Anti had pressed their cocks together now, and was jerking them off, moaning, and his moan sounded like Jack’s.

Jack watched Anti’s face, and tried to keep a hold on himself - it was odd, to think that he was watching his own face, in a way.

Anti’s face… was Anti’s face, at the end of the day.

Anti had done his own thing, carried his own expressions, and it had worn different lines on his face.

But… still.

It was… it was odd, since they’d come with the same default template.

Was this what it was like to have an identical twin?

God, Anti’s fingers were _skilled_ , and they were making Jack’s own hips jerk forward - he was going to cum too quickly, at this rate, although in fairness, Anti didn’t seem to be doing much better. 

And Anti… god, Anti was making Jack’s own hips jerk forward, and Anti was sobbing, his mouth wide open.

He was… he looked vulnerable.

And then Jack came, looking into those mismatched eyes, and his hips were still rocking as Anti came across Jack’s shirt, and... that was annoying.

Welp.

Oh well.

And then Anti was pressing his face against Jack’s, and they were kissing.

It was… well, it was pretty rough, as far as kissing went, but it _was_ still kissing.

It was wet, desperate, moaning kissing, and there was something that might have been tears pressed against Jack’s face, but he wasn’t going to poke that too hard.

He kissed Anti back, his hands on Anti's back, cradling Anti's shoulder blades, his belly sticky with their combined cum.

And then Anti was sitting up, and he was rubbing his nose, breathing heavily. 

"You okay?"

Jack's voice was faintly nervous.

"I'm fine," Anti said, his voice thick. "But... I'm... I need...."

And then Anti glitched out, leaving Jack by himself on the couch.

... huh.

Well, maybe Anti needed some space.

It wasn't like he'd been a jerk about it.

Jack wasn't going to be too mad about that.

He was, however, going to need to take a shower.

* * * 

Wilford joined Jack in the shower, which was a bit of a surprise, but... well, Jack wasn't going to complain too hard.

He was showering in the dark, and he was enjoying the dimness, the coolness, when a warm body pressed against his own.

He... hadn't expected that, to be honest, but he wasn't going to complain too hard.

It was nice, to have the cool water against his belly and the warm body at his back. 

"Hi," said Wilford.

"Hi," said Jack. 

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," said Jack. "Why do you ask?"

"You don't usually shower at this time of night."

"Oh," said Jack. "Anti was feeling frisky, so we ended up... um."

And then he remembered that he should have told Wilford.

Shit.

Wilford didn't seem mad, at least.

He was kissing along Jacks neck. 

"You did a good job," he told Jack.

"Mmm?"

"Of not being mad at Anti."

"Oh," said Jack. "I mean... he didn't give me a reason to be mad at him. This time, at least."

Wilford made an amused noise.

"No, but still."

He kept kissing along Jack's neck, and then his hands were going to Jack's belly, pressing closer.

"I want you both to Top me," he told Jack, right in Jack's ear.

"Mmm?"

Jack had the shivers, and he was leaning back still, as Wilford kissed along his neck.

"How would you want us to top you?"

Jack kept his voice quiet.

"Y'know, I'm not sure," said Wilford. "I think I'd like to just... be used by you both. However you'd want to use me."

"Oh," said Jack, and then he snickered in spite of himself. "What if I just made you rub my feet and make me food?"

"I'd get bored with that," said Wilford. "So would you."

"Maybe I'd get into it eventually," said Jack. "The fucking."

"Eventually, you'd find it in yourself to fuck me?"

"I mean," said Jack, "eventually. I'd get around to it."

He was teasing.

Hopefully Wilford would pick up on that.

Wilford chuckled against Jack's neck, beginning to kiss along it again, and his lips were ticklish and soft, his mustache soft and a little ticklish, his stubble rough.

He was hard, and then... he was sliding his cock between Jack's thighs, and that was... that was nice.

That was very nice.

Jack sighed, sagged into Wilford. 

He didn't have another erection in him just yet - he wasn't exactly a teenager anymore - but oh, that was nice.

There was something satisfying about just... standing there, as Wilford used him as a thing to get off on.

Wilford was panting in his ear, moaning about how good it was, and Wilford's cock was flexing between his thighs, Wilford was about to cum, Wilford was swelling up, Wilford was shaking, and then... Wilford was cumming.

Wilford came, and it was all over Jack's thighs, and that was... that was hot as hell.

Jack's cock twitched, as Wilford draped himself across his back, and Jack's cock twitched, even though it was still mostly soft.

"You're a horn dog, you know that, right?"

Jack snorted.

"The guy who just came all over me is calling _me_ a horn dog," said Jack, his tone amused. 

"I only fucked your thighs because you got me all worked up," Wilford countered.

Jack snorted. 

"Excuses, excuses," he said. 

"I wish could've seen you and Anti together," Wilford said, and his tone was wistful.

He sounded more like he was missing the days of old or something like that, versus watching his partner fuck their double.

Jack snorted, and he elbowed Wilford in the side.

"You're a horny fuck," he informed Wilford.

"Oh well," said Wilford, his tone brightening. "We should shower, before we use up all the hot water."

"Indeed."

* * *

Anti and Jack got a little closer - physically, emotionally. 

They watched televisions together sometimes, or Jack would go up onto the roof, to watch the stars with Anti.

Anti was clearly feeling some sort of something, although Jack had no idea what it was.

Anti was usually a bit... recalcitrant about sharing his feelings.

Maybe that just wasn't the way Anti's... people (?) worked.

Regardless, Jack was just enjoying the peace and quiet.

* * *

Anti sat next to Jack on the couch, as Wilford sprawled out on a nearby chair.

He had his feet on the coffee table, and his eyes were half shut.

"You look comfy," said Wilford.

"I am," said Anti. 

There was some inconsequential movie playing on the television, which Jack was vaguely paying attention to.

He was reading.

And Wilford was looking at the both of them, his expression thoughtful.

And then Anti got an idea.

It was a perfectly wonderful idea, and he was smirking so hard that his face was starting to hurt.

Hmm....

Anti's hand went from his own knee to Jack's.

Jack _really_ wasn't paying attention - he just patted Anti's hand, still reading.

Welp.

Jack reached higher up Jack's thigh.

Jack shifted, so that he was sitting a bit more comfortably, and then he made a surprised noise, as Anti's hand rested on his crotch.

"Hm?"

"I want to play with you," said Anti, and then he was just... shoving his hand into Jack's jeans.

"Well, uh... okay," said Jack, and he grinned, a bit foolish. 

Anti was... endeared, and then he felt weird about that fact, because... well, being endeared by Jack was always a bit of a weird one.

But he was squeezing Jack's cock, which was already filling with blood, swelling up in Anti's hand.

"How's that feel?"

"It's... it's nice," said Jack, his voice thick.

Anti pressed closer to Jack, until they were hip to hip, and he whispered in Jack's ear.

"Y'think that Wil likes to watch?"

"Oh, definitely," said Jack, and then he was turning his face towards Anti's, and he was... kissing Anti. 

He was kissing Anti, and he had his hands in Anti’s hair, and then Anti was… getting on his lap, oh fuck, what was it with Anti and climbing him like a tree?

But he was kissing Anti, his hands on Anti’s ass now, and Anti… Anti had a nice ass, as Anti’s hips rolled, and he was kissing along Jack’s neck, nipping now and then then.

And then Anti bit Jack.

Bit Jack, right on the spot that Wilford liked to bite, and Jack shuddered, his hips jerking forward, his head falling back.

“Fuck,” Jack gasped.

There was a whimper from the chair.

Wilford had a hand in his own pants, and was rubbing his cock.

“No,” said Jack, his voice sharp.

Wilford froze.

“What?”

“Don’t touch yourself,” said Jack. “That’s… that’s for us. Not for you.”

He and Anti were an “us” now.

Go figure.

“Right,” said Wilford, hs voice thick, and he took his hands out of his pants.

“Hands on knees,” said Anti.

“Yes, sir,” said Wilford.

Anti let off a cackling whoop, and then he was shoving up Jack’s shirt, to kiss along Jack’s chest, to pull on Jack’s nipples.

Jack shuddered, his hips jerking forward.

“Fuck,” Jack groaned, and he might have been performing a bit, but… only a bit.

“Y’like that?”

“I do,” said Jack. “‘s’why I’m so worked up.”

“Oh my god,” said Anti, and he rolled his eyes. “You’re such a shit.”

“I learned from the best,” said Jack, and he smiled at Anti with all of his teeth.

Anti made a face, but he was smirking, as he kissed Jack again, and he almost… aggressively humped against Jack’s belly.

He bit Jack’s other shoulder, shoving aside the neck of Jack’s shirt, and he bit into it, as Jack groaned, and pulled on his shirt, but then Jack was looking over.

“Wilford looks so sad, all by his lonesome,” said Jack. “We should invite him over.”

“Only if he’ll be a good boy,” said Anti. 

“You think he can?”

“Oh, totally,” said Anti, and he smirked at Wilford. “Are you going to be a good boy?”

Wilford nodded. 

“Yes, sir,” he said, and his voice was thick.

“Good boy,” said Jack, and then he was patting Anti’s hip. “I’ve got an idea.”

“What kind of an idea?”

“The kind of an idea where we both fuck Wilford’s face,” said Jack, as if that was just the kind of thing that people… said.

Oh.

Wow.

Um.

Sometimes, Anti forgot just how perverse Jack could be, when the mood hit him.

“Didja hear that, Wilf? Get on your knees.”

“Yes, sir,” said Wilford, and he was already sliding off of the chair, onto the floor, and he was looking up at the two of them with his big brown eyes, and... fuck, Anti was possibly going to die, it was that hot.

He shoved his underwear and his pants down, and he stood up, so that he was in front of Wilford.

And then Jack was next to him, and they were hip to hip. 

“Open wide,” Anti cackled, as he guided his cock towards Wilford’s open mouth.

Wilford… just did it.

No arguing, nothing, just sweet submission in his eyes, as his lips closed around Anti’s cock.

Anti moaned, and he pressed closer, until Wilford’s nose was against his belly, and he was gagging around it.

His cock hit the back of Wilford’s throat, and Wilford’s throat spasmed around him, but didn’t stop.

“Mmm, that’s a good, tight mouth,” Anti said, and he watched as Jack traced along the outline of Wilford’s lips with he wet head of his cock, spreading pre-cum across it.

And Wilford was moaning - he moaned harder, when Jack pressed the head of his cock to the corner of Wilford’s mouth.

And then… both of their cocks were in Wilford’s mouth.

There was some adjustment - they ended up with mostly the heads of their cocks pressed together, as they were both sucked.

WIlford was drooling down his chin, and then he was moaning, grinding forward, humping nothing.

“Touch yourself,” Jack said, as Wilford’s hands jerked them off, as he sucked on the heads of both of their cocks, and Jack was beginning to shake, and Anti’s knees were going weak.

And then he was… god, Anti was going to cum, right up against Jack’s cock.

Again.

This was almost turning into a pattern.

But… yeah, fuck, Jack was cumming, Jack was cumming into Wilford’s mouth, against Anti’s cock, and Wilford was rubbing himself in his pants - Anti could make out the light pink of Wilford’s panties - and then Anti was cumming, just like that, cumming hard enough that he was leaning heavily on Wilford as the sweet pleasure washed over him, throbbing like a heartbat, and he was shaking, he was panting, he was… having trouble thinking.

He took a step back, sat heavily on the floor, and he saw the mess of cum and drool going down Wilford’s chin, to stain Wilford’s shirt.

And then Wilford was cumming, and he was humping his fist, and... fuck.

“Thank you… for the gift of your cum, sirs,” said Wilford.

Then Jack sat down too, flat on the floor, and he was panting, his dick still out. 

“Holy fuck,” he said, and he sounded faintly stunned.

There was a pause.

“I’ll get up and clean in a minute,” said Wilford.

This struck Anti as the funniest shit ever - he started cackling, flopping back on the floor.

Wilford and Jack shared a look, but Anti didn’t give two shits.

Who the fuck cared?

He was here.

They were here.

It was all going to work out.

He might have been stuck at human shaped, but… it was going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic?
> 
> Want me to write you something like it, or something completely different?
> 
> Come talk to me on my tumblr, theseusinthemaze.tumblr.com!


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